Breakfast and Tiffany
by MusicalAlchemy
Summary: Maura Isles moves to Boston and meets Jane Rizzoli for the first time while she is working under cover. Consistent with the first meet in 'What Doesn't Kill You' [SE03EP01]. One-shot for now.


A/N: The characters don't belong to me, etc etc. The conversation between Jane and Stanley is directly typed out from 'What Doesn't Kill You' SE03EP01, the rest is courtesy of the plot bunnies that enjoy scraping away actual work and replacing it with fluff. **Currently a one-shot.**

_Edit24/2/13: The present tense angle annoyed me, so I've changed it. Thanks to Cagney for pointing out that the US uses double quote marks, too._

For once, the sunlight wokes Maura Isles before the alarm did. She squinted and rolled over away from the window, vowing to move the furniture around to avoid such a bright awakening in the future. Now able to open her eyes completely, Maura picked up her cell phone from the bedside table to check the time. '07:13' shone back at her, which she met with a slight narrowing of her eyes. Just enough time after all. She got out of bed and stared at all the boxes around her room. Although the removal men had put all the boxes in the right room (the room numbering and color-coded system must have helped them despite their protestations), getting in from work late had led to Maura unpacking only the kitchen and her 'First Night Box'.

When you move a lot, you get used to how to do it properly. The color-coding might confuse the uninitiated, but it's simpler to pack things into room-designated boxes and use coloured tape. There's nothing worse than going for a box you just know has shower gel in, only to find 2kg of pasta looking right back at you. There's only so much cleaning you can do with pasta. Despite all best intentions, you will never unpack everything the first day you move in. If you're unlucky enough to have to move on a week day, with job or school to hold you back from the elusive last box, you will also need a First Night Box. A set of sheets, pyjamas, clothes for three days or so (depending on how long it takes to unpack all the rest of your clothes) and bathroom essentials are the obvious candidates for this box. Everyone is different, and the moving van theory is that you can tell everything you want from a mover's First Night Box.

Maura's came complete with shower gel, two types of shampoo and conditioner apiece, and an iron. A couple of days-worth of clothes for her didn't fit into one box very easily, but the dry-cleaning hanger in the door frame assured anyone curious enough that she did intend to leave the house. She got out her jogging pants and sneakers, along with a couple of hairbands that had threatened to hide at the bottom of the box. All of five minutes later, the door to the apartment slammed shut behind a grinning Maura Isles. It might have been little before half seven in the morning, it might have been about forty degrees out, but the sneakers and music were on, and it is the morning.

A couple of blocks later, the shuffled music brought on something too heavy for a morning run. Still jogging with the occasional look up, Maura took her cell out her pocket and slid the screen to the music player. She barely registered the "Hey, lady, caref—" from in front of her when she crashed straight into them and dropped her phone. The earphones popped out of her ears painfully, and she winced, waiting for impact.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you—"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't," interrupted the stranger, and Maura looked at the voice. Accompanied by strong make-up, a thick coat and not a lot else, the face to join the voice scowled at her. The woman bent down to pick up the phone, and Maura thought she'd run off with it for a moment. It would probably have been a night's worth of work, after all. "Just take your phone, get back to jogging to—" the woman turned the cell in her palm and turned on the screen, "—Billy Talent?"

Maura snatched the phone from her, then said, "I was changing the song."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't listen to music when you run, and then you can actually look where you're going."

"Research has shown that music increases our physical performance, due to the time-perception effect—"

"Yeah, ok, whatever, just take your goddamn phone, will you? I don't need a science lesson. Jeez."

The woman shoved the phone in her hand and scowled again, pushing past her. Maura frowned before putting her earbuds back in, then found something a little more appropriate. She tried to listen to the music for the next couple of blocks, but found that her mind wandered back to the fishnet-clad woman from moments before. _What on earth drives women to choose such a career, rather than trying to get an education elsewhere and make lives a lot easier for themselves, I'll never know._ _Thank goodness, she didn't steal my phone, but I wish women were aware of their vitamin deficiencies a little more. Clearly in need of some Vitamin B if her night work is anything to go by. If she even understands what vitamins are, that is. She probably has a name like 'Tiffany'._ Maura laughed.

A little over half an hour later, she returned to her apartment. She shook her head at the memory of her bizarre interaction earlier that morning. After a quick shower and a breakfast of coffee and cereal, Maura drove to the precinct. _Might as well be early for a first day at work,_ she thought, and as the clock ticked over to show 8:45 she pulled into the parking lot. There weren't all that many spaces left, despite being so early, and Maura realised she just had enough time to grab a muffin before she needed to be downstairs. As soon as she walked into the café, she zoned in on them.

"Come on, Stanley, you know I'm good for it," she heard from her right.

"I don't know anything about you, Tiffany," said another voice, and her head snapped up. _Two Tiffanys in one day? How odd._ She quickly realised that the fishnet stockings and long boots did belong to the same woman as earlier.

"Really. Wh- Two dollars for a day old donut and bad coffee? Please, come on, I'll get you after my shift," Tiffany said. She looked tired, but impatient more than anything.

"Fft, you think you'll make that much?" The guy behind the counter had either a) clearly never hired a hooker, or b) hadn't seen Tiffany's legs. Two dollars would have been a gross misconception of how much she could make in an hour, if only she'd had slightly less make-up and better hair. Maura took a blue glove from her purse and put it on before getting two dollar bills out. She walked over to Tiffany and the coffee guy.

"Alright. I hope Big Mo tows your chevvie, I hope your crap coffee gives you an ulcer and you die of psoriasis," Tiffany saed, before turning to see Maura holding out the money. "Do you mind? You can get your non-fat latte in a minute, alright?"

Well, at least Tiffany recognised her from earlier on. "No, it's for you. And, given the vitamin B deficiency likely from your…" she looked Tiffany up and down, "Um… from your night work you're better off with some plain yoghurt and some leafy greens." She smiled, glad that she managed to mention the likely vitamin deficiency after all. Unfortunately, Tiffany pulled a face again before turning on the coffee guy.

"I have my life under control, thank you, but Stanley here has psoriasis—" she said, planting her hand on the counter top to block Maura from her view.

"Psoriasis is not contagious," Maura said, and even though she could see Tiffany purse her lips and raise her eyebrow just like everyone else did, she couldn't help but continue. "It's a genetic disease-"

"What about rudeness, is that genetic too?"

"I was simply trying to be nice!"

"Not every hooker has a heart of gold, alright, sister?"

"Apparently not, 'sister'."

Tiffany turned completely around. "Look, what exactly is your problem? Can you just step out of other people's business, or do you feel like it's your right to just get involved?"

Maura took a step back, confused. "Well, you don't have the cash right now, and I do, so—"

"—So you thought you'd just waltz in here and pay for my coffee?" She looked pissed off, and incredulous at the same time.

"Take it as a thank you for earlier."

"For what? Not stealing your cell? What kind of person do you think I am?" Maura looked her up and down, but just as she opened her mouth, Tiffany said warningly, "Don't answer that. Did you follow me here? You don't work here."

"I do, actually. I'm the new Chief Medical Examiner."

"Ooh, yay," Tiffany said sarcastically, waving her arms around. She grabbed Maura's money and pushed it at Stanley before taking her coffee and donut.

Maura, forgetting about wanting a muffin, followed her out the café and through security, curious. _What could a hooker want here, and why does she know everyone? _She walked towards the lift along with Tiffany and someone else she didn't recognise. Luckily, the lift opened just as they got to it, and the three of them walked in. Tiffany looked at her as they got into the lift and turned to the man beside her.

"Hey, Korsak, meet our new Chief Medical Examiner."

The man next to Tiffany looked at Maura and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Miss—"

"Maura. Maura Isles."

Tiffany groaned up at the lift and presses a button. "Which floor do you want?" she asked, looking at Maura.

"Oh, basement one, please. Nice to meet you properly, too, Tiffany," replied Maura, holding out her hand.

Tiffany snorted and looked at her, shaking her hand. "Detective Jane Rizzoli, and great to meet you too".

"Detective?"

"Under cover."

Korsak snorted. "Well, as much 'cover' as you get being a—"

"Yes, thank you, Vince."

Maura looked at Tiff-no-Jane and smiled. 'Jane' does suit her much better. The lift came to a stop at the basement, and Maura left. She turned around to see Jane pressing the floor button repeatedly. "Bye," Maura said.

"Yeah, whatever, like I ever come down here," replied Jane, face twitching at the idea of being in the basements for any longer than needed. "Thanks," she said, holding up the donut briefly before she took a less than genteel bite out of it.

_Disgusting_, Maura thought, before she turned around to find her office. _Glad I don't have to deal with __**that**__ on a daily basis._

Back in the lift, Jane took a swig of her coffee. "What?" she said abruptly, noticing Korsak looking at her.

"Made a friend?" he said, laughing at her horrified expression.

"God, no. I'd rather be one of her bodies than friend of pretentious, stuck up, know it all, 'Maura, Maura Isles'" she said, mimicking a higher voice and pulling a horrified face.


End file.
